HAYWIRE Issue 2 Fall 2013
have ever seen. We will have to kill
it, though it may not be that easy.
The beast was easily five
feet long and four feet in diameter.
It had thin, hairy legs that had
orange and red polka dots. He had
a scowling mouth which held razor
sharp teeth. Also, his glistening eye
— similar to that of a human —
was red with a brown, thick,
furrowed brow to top it off. His
skin was rough like sand paper.
I felt the slightest urge to touch
it, but I refrained. He had land legs
and flippers. In the simplest form,
it was a death machine. I was too
stuck in the moment to notice it
change position. We had to kill it,
so I had my knife out. Right before
I could puncture its skin, it leaped
out of the boat and grew!
Now he was six and a half feet
long and livid with us for wanting
to kill him. The creature glides
swiftly around the boat, looking for
a weakness. He wants our blood
and will stop at nothing for it. The
beast could easily overpower us.
I’m not afraid, nor will I go down
without a fight. Sarah on the other
hand is shaking violently as
incessant sobs rack her thin frame.
I comfort Sarah with a hug, but she
really needs to pull it together.
I remember after my
grandfather retired from the Army
he always kept some equipment in
the boat. I reach down into the
lower compartment and frantically
search through a variety of smelly
bait, fishing rods, sinkers, and
fishing caps until I find a revolver
and a grenade.
The creature is becoming more
persistent and Sarah’s sobs are
increasing in volume. I quickly take
aim and fire. The beast is fuming
with anger. I am prepared for the
recoil, but my hand is shaking from
being inexperienced with a gun.
After two more rounds I finally hit
the right fin, the more dominant one.
Pastel by Louisa Schnalke
The creature has also found its
target: The loosened board at the
back, right next to the motor, where
Sarah is rocking back and forth,
hugging her knees. Thump! Crack!
The boat is breaking. It’s either sink
or swim now. I could easily outswim the beast. On instinct, I leap
out. Sarah is frozen with fear.
“Jump! You don’t have much time!”
My scolding pays off. She snaps out
of her daze and dives.
Sarah is not as good of a
swimmer as I am, but the creature is
losing much blood, and his fin is
temporarily out of use. Within a few
minutes we make it to the beach.
The beast, though, is not far off. I
reach the shore and jet ahead of
Sarah. When I turn around, I see the
monster is within five feet of her,
ready to tear her to shreds with its
teeth.
The monster is oblivious to the
grenade I grabbed from the boat; I
could toss it and not be harmed; or I
could run back and risk my safety
for the slight chance that Sarah and I
could both make it back unscathed.
My decision will scar me, but I don’t
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